


Their Jewel

by Murnu



Category: DCU, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Creature Merlin, Immortal Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murnu/pseuds/Murnu
Summary: Now is laterThe Rogues Gallery of Central City have recently made their first graverobbery attempt with incredibly unexpected results…like seriously, how the heck would’ve anyone known that the dead guy they were robbing was actually alive?Featuring a feral Merlin, a wild merlin in later chapters, and a panicking assortment of villains and appropriately confused superheroes.Expect for some type of OOC things to happen for I have only few regrets.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> "Trust is like an eraser, it get smaller and smaller after every mistake."- Unknown

//

Despite what everyone thought, very few of the rumors about him were actually true. Yes, Merlin is loyal to no one, mostly because he was close to nobody. He knew what it meant to be loyal - along time ago to the only people he trusted not to take advantage of it, until the surviving few did.

Gwenivere was fine. She moved on fortunately and Merlin knew that Leon had lost everyone too, so they made a good pair. They understood each other. But even though the Queen had moved on, it didn't mean that the rest of the kingdom did.

The people of Camelot demanded that Merlin bring back the Once and Future King. They demanded that the king's "imposter" be used in exchange for Arthur's. Merlin knew that He wouldn't want this - wouldn't want Merlin to kill his most loyal knight. So Merlin refused and left to hide in the shadows. Soon after, the Saxons came and conquered Camelot.

From there it had spiraled downwards for Merlin. He was chained, waterlogged, whipped, enslaved, and tortured. Mentally, physically, and emotionally in anyway his captors thought of. They always wanted the same things: unlimited power, influence, women, men, children, world domination - his magic even.

Once, Merlin had managed to actually convince his new captors -"the Purists"- that he was mute. When he did, they left him alone-ish.

The only problem for Merlin then was that he was being starved and dehydrated until he finally blacked-out. Or died, but Merlin knew he was wake up again. Death was just a respite for him, anyways.

This time Merlin woke up in a tomb. He was incased inside a stone casket and the tiny balls of light that he had summoned earlier. He sighed, hoping that this life- this time, this decade, this century \- he would come to know of peace and forgiveness...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is found

"Don't think I don't understand loyalty just because I have no one left to be loyal to."-Unknown 

-

It took a while (a while being a few days) for Merlin to get out of the stone casket.IT was after he had died for the fiftieth time since he first woke up, but the main problem was he was almost dead so when the casket was cracked opened Merlin immediately sat up to take in as much air as he could. Like the dying man that he was.

Merlin could tell that Mother Earth had changed but he filed that away for later use when he heard a rustle of movement. His sight was clouded by darkness due to either blood loss or  the rushing blood flow to his head. He hoped that it was the latter rather than the former.

Straining his ears to hear the steady beating of his intruder's heart (because as far as they knew beforehand, he was dead), Merlin was surprised to hear a group of rapid heart beats.

It was strange to Merlin. Didn't grave robbers only hunt in a trio at most? So why were there ten? Did they know what he was?

NO. Merlin didn't want to go back. He'll be good but he did not want to return to that life.

Merlin heard them speaking in a foreign language - the same language his last captors spoke. He couldn't stop the broken whimpers that escaped his lips. The language was still too loud and and made his head pound. Merlin tried to block out the noise only to find that his hands were chained to each side of the stone casket in chaffing manacles. In a panic Merlin tried to use his legs to at least protect his vulnerable torso from attacks because he could hear the heavy footfalls of one the intruders coming closer to him, but his ankles were chained to the bottom of the casket as well.

Merlin hated the tears he could feel slipping down his cheeks. Magic, he tried to use his magic again like he did when the casket was closed only for it to turn against him and tighten the manacles even more. He didn't want to go back to that Place where they took him apart and watch him grow back the piece of him that they took. Watching him writhe in pain as they-

Eventually Merlin realized that his sight hasn't returned yet. It should've, though. He knew that he should be able to see now. Why couldn't he see?! His own tears felt strange as they fell from his eye but he- can't. see. He wasn't blind folded, he knew that much.

Merlin, think. Why can't I see? Why can't I see?

Merlin gave up on any thought he had of any and everything. He didn't care anymore. He pulled, twisted and struggle as much as he could to get out of his burning very much iron chains. Funny enough that he didn't notice the burn of the iron in the first place.

The realization of the hopelessness of him being freed made his broken whimpering start up again, ignoring the blood and pain, and forgetting about he intruders' presences. Merlin just wanted to be free, damn it!

Merlin- Magic- wanted to be rejoined with Courage and Strength. He wanted to comfort the strong willed Maiden and the Brave Lion. Wanted to tell the Bitter Raven that she wasn't alone and that he was sorry. He wanted to see Loyalty, and Purity, and Hope, and all f the Knights. But it didn't matter. It never mattered about what he wanted. He was still here in the rags of his old manservant uniform and they were gone.

Merlin stopped struggling soon after he realized how lost and alone he was. He inched at he uncomfortable warmth of touch. It was sticky and firm just like Courage's was after training.

The not-Courage began to speak the loud broken foreign language causing Merlin to whimper softly at not-Courage's words. The not-Courage seemed to understand that when he spoke again in a more gentle tone.

Merlin didn't know how he could handle this. He couldn't see. He couldn't translate. Hell, he didn't even know the Satan-blessed time! So Merlin did the only thing he knew how to in this situation. Merlin set his mind to Primal.

************

"Len!" Mick hissed to the cold lover, who was holding a very suspicious man. "Len!"

Len shushed him and motioned for Hartley to help him with getting the cuffs off.

"What are you doing!" Mick gritted though his teeth, very unused to Len ignoring him.

Len looked at him with a scowl on his lips and eyes hidden beneath his Captain Cold goggles. "Helping."


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that actually registered when Primal rose from his restless slumber wasn't danger but the unfamiliarity of his location. The pain was mild and wounds treated, Primal purred in satisfaction and told Merlin of how it was all clear.  

Merlin told him to bugger off as he resumed trying to Merge inside of Primal to see then went back to sleep. 

The Merge was a lifetime of sleeping the subconscious of the other persona as living forever did take its toll. Primal hated it because it meant that he was in a different place with no constant.  

Primal opened his eyes only to be greeted by darkness. He didn't like this. Primal tried blinking to see if it would cure his lack of vision. Spoiler: it didn't. Nope, he didn't like this at all. He was running blind on this life it seemed. Literally.  

Primal's head snapped up at the sound of New English (loud and foreign, Merlin moaned) and realized someone was holding him up. He was being held as another seemed to be undoing his chains. Now this he liked.  

"Len, what you doing?" A further voice was angry and quiet, never a good sign for him but what had he done to deserve anger. Or do these captors not need nor heed reason? 

The one holding him shifted as if to turn towards the angry one and responded in a scornful tone with a familiar word. "Helping." 

They were helping him, or at least trying to. Soon a young soul came towards him breaking the chains from the tomb as another had rough snatched him from the first. He was yelling at the first. The first - a man - yelled at the fourth - the one who now held him - and took him back, mindful of Primal's wounds.  

Primal's head was beginning to feel light from the rapid movements, causing him to lose control of his own shaking. It broke out of his control enough to cause him to practically vibrate and convulse in their arms as they shouted in presumably alarm for more help. With a trembling hand, Primal reached up vaguely in the direction of the voices until he felt a thick stubble chin gasping out one question: "help me, please?" 

Ç≈Ω 

"Byrg me, onhagian?" The man coughed out as he gripped Mick's skull as if he was quoting Shakespeare's quote of to be or not to be, that is the question.  

"Byrg me, onhagian?" This man was coughing up blood, crying out blood, and just plain bleeding out. He asked a simple question and they couldn't understand.  

"Byrg me, onhagian?" He didn't even know them. The Rogues.  

"Byrg me, onhagian?" He still was asking earnestly. 

One simple question that not one of them understood. It was so heartbreaking that Len and Mick, the badass duo of Central City, shed a tear. Captain Cold and Heatwave would've bet even Joker would take pity and help. Harley Quinn would be in hysterics with Cat-woman and Poison Ivy. Batman would've been done and just cried plainly at this.  

"Byrg me, onhagian?"  

One foreign-ass language speaker asking a heart melting question in the most pitiful, most terrible, most depressing, most broken voice as he was coughing up blood- bleeding out. Most likely unknowing of where he was, locked inside a coffin. Blind and scared. Repeating, pleading brokenly to them. The Rogues. They already knew he was not going to be let out of their sights for a long time. You have to wonder, dear reader, what would've you done in their situation? 

Because now , these Rogues were attached.  

Because now, those heroes and anti-heroes could break their souls. Beat them, hurt them, kill them and they'll come back for more for the love of God, nobody would touch him... 

 **(Kudos for the lucky person that guesses the language I used for Merlin)**  


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"In order to rise from it's own ashes a Phoenix first must burn."- unknown 

It has been a couple of weeks since that fateful night in the Emrys Crypt. The victim had yet to wake up though. It was as if the stranger - Emrys, as Mick has been taken to call him - was dead to the world but thanks to Hartley 's hearing aid, they knew otherwise.  

Emrys was otherworldly now that he was clean of the blood and grime he got from the crypt. His hair was black as nigh and his skin was pale as the moon, sickly so. Emrys' ears were cat ears with one missing a piece of skin at the edge and the other adjourn with a Celtic earring. Both were pushed back into his hair, making it understandable how they missed the ears before when the first found him. He had small, sharp canines Inside of his mouth and his eyelashes gave him the appearance of cat eyes. Then there were his ribs, to put it simply you could clearly count them all. 

Emrys looked like he was startled to the point of a shrunken stomach to be honest. His ribs seemed to be ready to break from even the barest breath he took in. Enough so that all involved in the event of changing his clothing were more than ready to be sick because all over his starved frame were scars. Lashes of many whips, knife wounds, gunshots, frostbite. You name it, Emrys had it. A few were still opened, others were infected thus forcing the Rogues to call in Poison Ivy. (and my word, how she was shocked.) 

Ivy worked night and day for ten days before she broke down for she knew the man. She claimed that her old college professor, Dragoon, spoke fondly of the man when teaching her about different kinds of plants and poisons. Emrys wouldn't know anything of the world because of what happened to him in past. When asked why by the Rogues, however, she provided them one list. 

This list told them what Emrys would need to learn above all else in order to understand. It was of how to calm him, teach him, and what they couldn't ever feed him. Ivy warned that, above all else, if the Rogues didn't follow this list the man would go into shock, a culture shock to be exact. After this she gave them a collar, a bell, and leash before leaving.  

As a result, Len was furious and glared at most of the jewelry shops and malls until they were in case in ice.. Mick was aflame with anger as were most of the streets.. The weather was stormy enough that the Flash was put on a run for city hall's money. The trio were reckless and careless in their raids. In response to their anger, it had taken the entire league to take them down but they couldn't care less. Emrys was a person, not a pet! 

It would be another two weeks until any other Rogue would resurface for their charge would wake up soon even though Len, Mick, and Mark couldn't be there to see him when he did. This was worth it, though. He was worth it. Emrys, a man, a boy, they barely knew was worth a little jail time. 

 That night, the Rogues had sent out a message to all heroes, anti-heroes, gangs, thieves, thugs, mercenaries, villains, and super villain. To each group this message had a different meaning yet all were given the general idea of it as a warning for all who dare cross.   

 


	5. Chapter 5

"People have scars in all sorts of unexpected places. Like  secret road maps of  their personal histories, diagrams of all their old wounds. Most of our old wounds heal, leaving nothing behind but a scar. But some of them, don't. Some wounds, we carry with us everywhere. . . and though the cut is long gone, the pain still lingers." - Meredith Grey

 

/////

 

The Rogues were in a scramble. They were stealing educational books, clothing, medicine from stores all over America with some help from other villains and making little to no purposeful ruckus about it. Most concerning were that these things weren't noticed to be stolen until the next day.

 

The Flash had informed the rest of the League a week after the Rogue Gallery had started only to find that the villains in their areas were acting rather odd as well. Batman immediately left after he deemed that the necessary information had been given with the promise to find a more in depth explanation for the anomaly. The rest of the main Leaguers had stayed to exchange more of their personal knowledge and opinions. In the end, Flash still had no idea what the Rogues were up to.

 

≈

 

Primal awoke a few days prior to the League's meeting, which was the real reason the Rogues and co were in that mad scramble for learning/teaching supplies. Funny enough, that the one leading the charge for supplies was James Jessie (the Trickster). Yet while the Rogues - and co - were away, the Joker came out to play. . .

 

"Hello, Pretty, Pretty Kitty." The Joker mockingly sang ot the boy.

Emrys tilted his head slightly in confusion. His ears were flickering, rather adorably in Joker's opinion, as if Emrys couldn't decide whether Joker was a threat or not.

 

On one hand, Joker was:

1\. armed,

2\. insane, and

3\. had most likely watched him sleep with a crazed look.

 

On the other, Emrys reasoned, Joker had

1.- in a way - complimented him,

2\. didn’t try to hurt him,

3\. At least kept both of his hands in Emrys' line of sight as a sign of good will, and

4\. universally, warned Emrys that he was armed.

 

Above all else though, he was a fellow crazed person in these trying times and crazed people needed to stick together, right?

 

Besides all that, though they were all quite valid points, Emrys could understand him and that was good enough for Emrys. With that in mind, his ears tried to relax in the wary presence of the stranger but still kept on flickering in every direction at away type of sound no matter how small.

 

"So, who would you be?" Joker grasped one of Emrys' ears with his cooled gloved hands. Leaning forward onto the bed, closer to the bedridden patient as he strengthened his hold, he whispered, "I'd be named Joker. What name you be?"

 

"Yoel w-æren ∂rilî∂e nâ -" Emrys had to stop to cough for a few then continued in raspy tones, "of hwilc-hwugu nem-nam yfel oncunnan."

 

"Bleh!" Joker threw his arms up theatrically, pouting in a way, "I give up! You can't speak like me!" He growled, sulking on his place the foot of the bed like that of a child.

 

"Sorig." Emrys aplícate in a sheepish voice. "Êower su sêlost yfel âwrîtan?"

Joker looked with a peculent sigh to face Emrys. So far this whole adventure wasn't as fun as he had previously thought it would be. There was no panic nor shouting, just a calm stare when Emrys woke to him standing over the bed with a knife. Sure it was intriguing but he had nothing to do. Emrys rolled his eyes at the mortal's actions before speaking his Emrys-Gibberish at him.

 

"Êower su sêlost yfel âwrîtan?"

 

Joker perked up onto his elbows in interest. That one was sorta different from the other one.

 

"Êower su sêlost yfel âwrîtan?" Emrys' voice was starting to crack in betweenthe Emrys-Gibberish words.

 

Joker's eyes narrowed into slits in his confusion. Why would Emrys be repeating this one? What was so special about this? Could - Joker's eyes widened with wonder - Could Emrys actually understand him?

 

"Êower -" "Name me." Interrupted the Joker in a n unusually serious tone.

 

Emrys hesitated causing Joker's ever-present smile look like a bloodied snarl as he growled in disapproval in the back of his throat.

 

Grabbing Emrys' hair in a painfully tight grip, the Joker pulled the patient over toward himself. This caused Emrys, of course, to be in the most painful position because of his recently re stitched and rebound wounds - having to hunch all the way from he head of the bed to the foot of it. Away form the nice pillows that were cushioning his back on the headboard, Emrys silently bemoaned the loss, not noticing Joker sitting up to relieve him slightly or the grip loosen just a bit.

 

The Joker stated to make small clicking noises when he realized that the "normal" way wasn't going to work to get Emrys' attentions. His face split into a wide, friendly grin as Emrys started to focus on him and stopped when Emrys placed a bony hand on Joker's chest.

 

"Âstyntan" came the dejected sigh. "Hwêne canne yfel ôleccan eow?"

 

"Awww, don’t be like that, Kitty." The Joker cooed with a poutwith a pout reclaiming his features."I just want you to say my name." He sulked. "Name me."

 

Emrys closed his eyes calmly. Just say Joker's name? That was it? All the man wanted was for him to repeat his name? So simple, so easy. That all Emrys had to do was repeat a name - his name. His eyes slowly opened when Joker started to gently 'knock' on his head.

 

Out of everything, Emrys thought as he began to laugh quietly, he just wants me to repeat his name.

 

Joker looked at Emrys in unholy glee, "You alright there, Kitty?"

 

"Joker." He barked out in his laughing fit. "Joker. Joker."

 

"So you do understand!" Joker cried out with a more innocent-like joy, clapping his hands excitedly. "Oh, can you write?"

 

Emrys nodded, making vague hand gestures of writing on paper. "Êower su sêlost yfel âwrîtan?"

 

As Joker rushed for pen and paper, he wondered if maybe Emrys and he could exchange stories on how they got their scars. Hopefully this time they both would understand the other, because even the Joker need someone to understand him with blatant judgment. Who better than a foreign stranger who didn't know of the world nor the people in it?

 

/end/


End file.
